Siúil Marbh
by PerverseLeigh
Summary: After a decade of survival, raiding an abandoned structure is something normal. However this structure seems to be anything BUT normal. Follow Carl, Daryl and Glen as they investigate a mall haunted by a different sort of dead creature.
1. The Creeps

**I do not own anything from The Walking Dead. All rights to characters, situations, scenes, etc. are property of AMC and the people who work with them to make this wonderful show.**

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The sound of childlike laughter flittered through the broad expanse of the mall food court-turned-arboretum. Carl felt a shiver of anxiety slide down his spine, weakening his knees and landing leadenly in the arches of his feet. He shivered, involuntarily, and searched the eerily open area for the source of the giggles.

Ever since the dead started walking again, a decade ago, Carl had been searching for things. Food, water, fortified shelter, clothes, medicine, people... dead people...

This was different, though. They had come into this building to gather supplies but had found nothing. No, really! There was nothing here. No people, no Walkers, no supplies. This was a _mall_, for goodness sakes! How could there be nothing in a mall? Nothing but huge trees that had overgrown their planters a long time ago. Some of them were fruit trees, but they weren't ready to harvest so Carl didn't give them another thought.

Motion on the edge of his vision caught Carl's attention but when he looked there was nothing there but vegetation. He looked at Glen and Daryl, both of whom seemed to be more out of sorts than normal. Sweat glistening on Glen's paling face and Daryl crouching in his hunting stance; creating a lower profile out of instinct.

_Hear that?_ Daryl signed in the group's own silent pantomime, swirling his finger in the air above his head to indicate the weird laughter. Glen and Carl both nodded.

_Seeing motion. I look, nothing._ Carl signed back with jerky motions toward the ground cover. Daryl scrunched his craggy face in disbelief, but Glen nodded agreement. He'd seen something too.

_Watch. Spread out. Stay in sight. _Daryl commanded then started creeping forward.

There wasn't really a steady noise, but every so often something that sounded like a little girl laughing nervously came from somewhere overhead.

Carl pulled two bolts from his quiver, nocking one into his small cross bow and holding the other folded in the palm of his hand. He scanned the indoor forest again, taking his center position as Glen moved off to the left about ten paces and Daryl to the right about the same. They stalked across the broken tiles and scattered debris like wolves, without much sound. Years of being forced to tread lightly through all kinds of terrain made their steps quick and light over the treacherous flooring.

A quick motion over by Daryl caught Carl's eye. This time Daryl saw something as well. He and Carl trained their weapons at the same spot while Glen canvassed the other side of the room but there was nothing there.

They heard the laughter again but this time, it sounded like it came from a different voice and there was nothing mocking or childish about it. The hair on Carl's arms stood on end as the maniacal laughter turned sharp.

They reached the other side of the tree museum and stopped by the heavy fire doors. Carl and Glen pressed their backs up against the doors while Daryl pressed his face into the thin window mounted in the right-hand door. First one cheekbone to the glass, then the other; checking for anything on the other side.

Daryl shook his head then slowly pushed on the bar latch handle to open the door as quietly as possible.

The hall they walked into was covered in vines. The walls and ceiling were so overgrown that some of the vine cords were as thick as Carl's arm. It was a windowless corridor but there was light shining from the door they has just come through and either end of the tunnel.

The verdant greenery rustled crisply against Carl's limbs and back as he crept, sideways, a little further down the hall, straining his eyes to search the darkness in front of him. He thought he could hear crying coming from his end of the hall so he sucked on his teeth to make a small, mouse-like squeak. It was too dark to sign so he didn't even bother looking back before he started stalking through the underbrush.

Daryl caught up first, with Glen covering the rear again the crying got louder and more insistent as they traversed the narrow path. Whimpering became sobbing; sobbing became gnashing and growling. The sound was less sad but more bellicose and was becoming more violent as they approached.

They reached the double doors at the end of the hall, coming into the flickering halo cast by the fluctuating light in the next room. Carl looked to Daryl first, then Glen and jerked his head in the direction of the door.

Daryl reached over his shoulder for a second arrow, paused for a second, then spun to face back the way they had come.

_Check weapons. _He signed.

Carl checked first his knife, then his- Where the hell were his crossbow bolts? There had been ten in his quiver when they had entered the building but he hadn't shot anything yet. Now he had the one nocked on his crossbow and the one in his hand. Fucking great.

_Gone! _Carl signed insistently.

_Mine too._ Glen confirmed.

The hairs all over Carl's body just about leapt off when the wailing from the next room was briefly accompanied by another fleeting twitter of the childlike laughter. It was as if the giggles were taking credit for stealing their ammo.

Carl looked at Glen whose expressive eyes were wide and alert as they followed Daryl into the next room. Daryl was standing just inside the door, his gaze fixed on something ahead, his expression disbelieving. He shook his head as if to clear his vision.

_Saw figure, there._ Daryl signed and pointed.

Carl looked but only saw open space in the low light between flickers of bright fluorescent illumination. Then, as if conjured by the new presences in the room the brighter light flickered on and a faint form appeared. It was floating above the tile floor, with its arms spread wide and looking right at them. The spectral form was dressed in loose, tattered rags, its feet bare and dirty.

The brighter light flickered off then on again, seeming to wipe the spectre from the air.

"What the fuck...?" Daryl muttered, holding his crossbow trained on the spot where the thing had appeared.

"I dunno," Glen whispered, "But this is beginning to look like more trouble than it's-"

Glen was cut off by another flicker of light. The ethereal form appeared right in front of them and let out an angry, ear-piercing screech and reached for Daryl.

Daryl already had his large hunting knife in his hand and struck out at the foggy form. It screamed again before disappearing, the angry sound leaving their ears ringing in the sudden silence.

"Was that a fucking Ban Sidhe?" Glen asked on the verge of hysteria.

"It's not a ghost." Daryl shook his head again.

"Well, what is it?" Carl asked.

"I dunno but I hit it." Daryl was looking around on the ground. "Can't hit a ghost."

There was the sounds of fluttering, like huge dragonfly wings and more giggling from behind them. All three of them spun around just in time to see the door slam shut with a thud. Glen threw himself against the door and it opened a crack before being forced shut again. They heard the sound of something being shoved through the handles on the other side, locking them in.

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	2. Death Dirge

**Hey there! I'm glad you guys like this story so much! It's the first time I've written something so suspenseful and I'm loving it! It's taking a lot of hard work, though, since I'm not used to this sort of writing.**

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"Shit!" Daryl yelled at the offending portal, then looked up at the yellowed acoustic tiles of the dropped ceiling. He turned around in a slow 360 spin yelling: "Shit, shit, _SHIT!_" and waving his crossbow in the air over his head.

Glenn backed away from the entry, then power walked the few steps back to the doors trying to force it open with his shoulder using what little momentum he could gain in the small room. He rammed into them with a loud, heavy _thud._

"Man..." he muttered when the doors bowed out a couple of inches then sprung back. He tried couple times more, just for good measure, then seemed to give up on that idea. He stepped back, rubbing his shoulder.

After a few minutes of the low lighting the blindingly bright flickering started again, whiting out their vision for a few seconds each time and leaving spots floating in Carl's eyes.

There was the slight sound of a motor running coming from somewhere deep in the building. It was just barely loud enough to make it hard to hear the metallic scraping sound, like scrap steel being dragged across the tile floor.

"Guys..." Carl's eyes were adjusting to the visual onslaught and he thought he could make out small figures moving in the uncomfortably fluctuating illumination. The lights dimmed again and Carl peered through squinted eyes around the cluttered room. There was nothing but boxes piled against the back wall and scattered randomly across the floor.

Glenn was leaning on his outstretched arm, braced against the locked doors and Daryl was kicking random detritus around the floor while muttering curses under his breath.

The lights flashed brightly again and Carl was left with the impression of six bodies burned onto the back of his eyes, not just the three of them.

"_Guys!_" Carl got their attention this time.

"What?" Daryl snapped at him, but Carl was used to it. It was how Daryl dealt with all the bull shit. "What the fuck do you want now!?"

"Dude!" Carl snapped back, "There's someone else in here."

"Yeah," Daryl growled, "I know."

"Well, if we're locked in, they're trapped too... " Glenn whispered.

"Naw." Daryl shook his head, "Who, in their right mind would trap themselves with the prey? There's gotta be another way out."

"What if they're just waiting to pick us off?" Glenn's eyes were so wide Carl could see the whites around his brown irises.

"Then they woulda hit us already." Daryl growled at the more timid man.

A light scratching noise pricked Carl's attention and he turned his head in its direction. Something was scratching at the other side of the blocked doors. Carl put his ear to the crack between the doors, straining to hear what was going on. He could barely make out muttering as if someone was talking or arguing in a low voice. He heard a trill of laughter and a growl then was smacked in the head with the door he was leaning his head against. He fell to his rear with his whole head ringing like a church bell and the side of his face alternately stinging and numb.

"Dude!" Glenn crouched down to examine him, "Are you OK?"

"He's fine." Daryl barked.

"Yeah, just bruised." Carl confirmed, rubbing his cheek bone. It hurt, and his ear wouldn't stop ringing but he'd be able to fight.

Daryl went back to kicking random things. From his seat on the floor Carl could see that Daryl's flailing had a patterned purpose. He was looking for something among the boxes.

Daryl's foot hit something solid and everything went eerily quiet. Carl hadn't noticed how much noise there actually was until it was gone. The only thing he could hear now was the raspy sound of heavy breathing.

Daryl bent down and started flinging empty boxes into the middle of the small room. He was halfway through the pile when the next box he grabbed seemed to want to stay in its place and his fingers slipped off it. He grabbed it again and pulled on it harder, but it refused to budge.

"That's what I'm talkin about..." Daryl muttered then started shoving other loose boxes out of the way.

The lights flickered then seemed to set to strobe, pounding relentlessly on Carl's retinas. There was maniacal laughter from the other side of the doors and someone started pounding on them hard enough that they were shuddering in thundering bursts against the door jamb and whatever was holding them shut.

Without warning the sound, motion and lights all cut out completely, plunging them into a thick, silent darkness. It was so sudden that Carl was left dizzy and disoriented. Had he not been still sitting on the floor he would have, more than likely, fallen over.

Carl strained his ears and eyes to find the least bit of light or sound in the depraved room. He held his breath so the sound of it wouldn't mask other sounds.

After a few minutes the shock of being suddenly severed from light and sound, after being so assaulted with those very same senses, settled. He began to feel calmer and he let out the breath that was making his chest ache. His eyes and ears started to play tricks on him; little whispers of sound and scraps of light flickered in and out of his perception as if taunting him with his lack of ability to sense anything real.

Someone made the tongue-click that was a sort of roll-call for their group or '_Who's here?_' Carl clicked back along with one other. All three were still alive, then... that's good.

There was a small squeaking sound, almost like the signal for "follow me", but the sound was too faint to have come from either of the men with him and Carl was quite sure that it was way too dark to move so no one would be using that particular call.

Carl had almost convinced himself that the sound had been generated by his own brain when it came again, this time accompanied by a light so small and dim that it should have been a figment.

The wisp of light hovered in the air in the middle of the room, bouncing and bobbing like some insane, glowing bottle fly. The minute squeak came again and the light started to drift toward the back of the room.

Carl heard another click and a louder squeak, '_Who follow?_'. One click, two clicks... they were both going so Carl clicked his consent. He fervently hoped following this will-o-the-wisp wasn't going to be the last mistake they made.

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	3. A Light in the Dark

**I'm sorry this one was so late! I gave you a couple hundred extra words to make up for it OK?**

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**I don't own anything in this story!**

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The tiny green spot of light flickered as it started to drift toward the back of the room. It bobbed and weaved as it floated away from them then brightened when it neared the boxes at the back of the room. The light dodged to the left and disappeared behind the pile.

"Awe, hell..." Daryl muttered in the darkness somewhere to the right of Carl.

There was the sound of something rubbing on cardboard then the hollow sound of empty boxes hitting the floor.

"Hey guys, there's a door here..." came Glenn's muffled voice.

"Where?" Carl hissed back.

"Go to the left and feel all the way to the wall."

Carl sidled left a little then scuffed his feet forward, bumping boxes out of the way and trying not to trip in the darkness. He felt something brush passed his arm then Daryl's hand clamped painfully around Carl's thin bicep. He shook his arm and Daryl released him. Daryl had yanked Carl around often enough in the past ten years to know who's arm he'd grabbed.

They moved around the piled boxes and found Glenn sitting in the faint glow of light cast from a small open hatch. It was hardly a door by any standard, being maybe thirty inches tall and about as wide; but it was open and that's what mattered.

Glenn stuck his head into the opening and looked both left and right then up. He pulled back just long enough to motion the all-clear then scrambled through. Carl followed him through squatting down and scooting through while folded up so he didn't have to actually get off his feet. It's never good to be caught on your hands and knees.

The corridor beyond wasn't lit, per se, but there was murky light being filtered in from somewhere above. The dim light was further shaded by the plethora of foliage growing from more of the thick vines they had seen in the other hall. What faint light actually made it to the floor was enough that they could make sure they didn't fall into any pits or walk into things but not quite enough to actually see by.

The green light fluttered to life directly in front of them and started to make its meandering way down the vine-choked hall. It cast an eerie glow on the leaves around it but between the motion of the weird green light and the shadowy near-dark of the ambient lighting Carl couldn't make out what the light was coming from or even what was holding it up, but it kept moving just the same.

Amongst the leaves beside his head Carl though he heard a small noise like a chipmunk chittering but very faintly. He turned his head toward the sound but he couldn't see anything in the leaves but more leaves. Mentally, he dismissed it as his imagination and moved on.

He watched Glenn silently stalk up to the green light and try to catch it. The speck of light flared brightly, flicking around Glenn's hands easily then went out.

Beside him, Carl heard the chattering sound again, but this time it sounded like it was saying: "Uh-uh!" as if they were being scolded by an ant. He whipped his head around to look into the leaves again but could see nothing more than shadows.

"Now what?" Daryl growled quietly.

Carl shrugged, but realised that no one could see his gesture. Before he could voice anything the small green light was back. It circled around the lazily as if to tempt them into grabbing at it again then continued on down the hall. The men looked at each other in the near-dark and then started after their floating guide.

The ambient light got steadily brighter as they continued down the hall and the air grew warmer with more humidity. Soon it was bright enough to be able to make out the features of the hall they were travelling down and Carl was surprised to realise he could recognize some of the vines. There were pole beans and raspberry vines intertwined with moonflower and morning-glory. His mom used to grow them in her garden back home. They weren't the sort of plants that needed a lot of attention, but he wouldn't expect to see them growing in a mall... no matter how wild or overgrown the building got. Someone had to have brought them into this place, probably for food and medicine. He was thinking that the tenders were still here since these plants actually seemed to be manicured.

Carl turned back to the group when Daryl clicked for his attention. He glanced around the dusky hallway but couldn't find the little green light anywhere. He gestured into the air but the others shrugged and shook their heads they didn't know where it had gone either.

The sounds of low conversation made it to the men's ears and they all turned their heads toward the lighted end of the hall. The light was steadily bright but shifting, as if there was something moving in the next room just out of view of the open door.

The men moved further down the hall stopping just short of the softly lit room. Inside they could hear whispering. A man and a woman were arguing in hushed tones about something Carl couldn't quite make out as he leaned closer the better able to hear.

Carl's back was to the lee of the doorpost and his ear was all but flush with the opening and he strained to hear what was being said. The man growled something in low tones and the woman said something back, her voice low but the pitch held the edge of panic. There was the sudden sound of a sharp slap and the woman gasped.

"No.." she begged, "No! Please!?" she screamed as the sound of another strike punctuated the still air.

Carl swung his body into the room around the door post, shaking off Glenn's hand as he tried to pull the younger man back into the hall. He leveled his crossbow at the point that the sounds should have come from but there was nobody there.

He was standing in an indoor park. Beside the cobbled path there were lush, medium sized trees; thick emerald grass trimmed to an even inch and held back by a neatly placed, ankle-high white picket fence. In the center of the room was a round grotto with a small Koi pond complete with silver and golden fish swimming with quick motions and kissing the clear water.

Next to the pool was a small wrought iron and maple plank bench. It looked weathered but sturdy. Carl looked the entire room over as the other two men crept in, doing their own visual sweeps.

Just as Carl started to relax he heard the sound of a choked sob and a sniffle. It was as if someone were afraid to be caught crying. He looked around again and saw the faint outline of a thin woman sitting on the bench flicker into view. The spectre grew stronger and he could make out her motions as she gingerly dabbed what appeared to be a blackened eye with a plain handkerchief. She looked up suddenly in Carl's direction and his heart stopped. His hands and feet went cold but she seemed to look right through him.

Carl looked behind him and saw that the sight of the woman had caught the attention of the other two, but not what she was looking at. He heard the woman gasp and when he looked back she was trying to pull herself up off the bench.

The fabric of her blouse pinched and pulled at the front as if someone were dragging her by it. Her body was solid enough now that Carl could make out her features and the sheer terror in her eyes. She shook her head and whimpered with closed lips then her head snapped back as if she had been struck in the face, but there was no one near her.

She began crying in earnest then, alternating sobs and whimpers for pleas and promises. Her head jerked to the side and blood leaked from her nose and mouth in a long line down her lips and chin. She gave another weak sob before she was thrown onto the bench, her head bouncing off the iron hand rail. She lay still for a moment, blood pooling on the floor beneath the bench then her visage flickered and was gone.

Carl and Glenn rushed over to the bench to have a look but there was nothing left of the woman. Nothing but a slightly darker patch on the wood of the seat.

"Aw... Man..." Glenn muttered as he knelt to look at the ground beneath the bench.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, "Shit's fucked up."

"Let's just get on outta here" Carl suggested.

"Yeah." Glenn pulled himself off the ground, "I'm all for leaving."

Daryl was silent but turned back toward the hall that they had just left. A cold breeze started to rustle the leaves of the trees and the hall they exited with a drifting fog and a deep, throaty laughter. The frigid breeze strengthened blowing stray leaves, dust and fog into the men's faces. Carl winced and turned his face so he wouldn't inhale the dust then put his hands in front of his face as the wind grew colder and stronger. The gale-force wind was plastering their clothes to the fronts of their bodies when the doors slammed shut.

With the doors shut, the wind cut off but they stood there for a moment, catching their breath. Glenn sprinted to the doors and tried to push them open but they were locked.

"Not again..." He groaned.

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**HAHA! Wow! I got to typing & it just POURED out! Tell me what ya think!**


	4. Head Cheese

**Sorry for the long wait. It's reeeeeeeeeallllly hard to concentrate on getting words into the computer whilst under the influence of cold meds. This scene isn't done, but I can't write any longer, so I'll put the rest in the next chapter.**

**I Don't own any of this. If I did, I'd be able to afford that sinus drain thing I've been wanting...  
**

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Glenn kicked the door once for good measure then stalked back toward the bench. He looked at it for a moment, then made as if to sit on it.

"What the hell, man?!" Carl yelled at him. Having grown up with walking corpses being normal, Carl had a skewed vision of what was scary. This place, however, was downright spooky and that was really getting to him.

"What?" Daryl shrugged. "Let tha man sit. Bitch ain't usin it no more."

Glenn took a long look at the bench then decided to sit on the grass beside it. Daryl scoffed at him then walked further into the garden room. Glenn had his feet planted so that his knees were in the air by his shoulders and his head down between them.

"What now?" Glenn asked from between his knees.

"Well, it looks like we're gonna have to go forward." Carl loved to state the obvious and watch Daryl fight to keep from strangling him. "At least there's two doors this time." He pointed to the exits set into two walls on the other side of the garden. The one directly opposite the door they had entered was a solid double swinging door; the one on the adjoining wall was also a double door but made of glass that had been spray painted over and chained around the handles.

Glenn hoisted himself out of the grass and strolled over to the glass doors. He put his face to the painted glass and cupped a hand around his eye socket to shade out the light so he could, possibly, see into the next room. He straightened again and tried to rub some of the paint off with his thumb then shrugged.

"I can't see anything..." he reported.

Daryl walked over to the other door and pushed it open a crack. He pulled his head back to look at his companions then cocked it toward the double-hung door. "I think we got something here..." He told them and poked his head into the next room.

Carl and Glenn came up behind him to take a peek. Just beyond the door was an industrial kitchen. There was food in kitchens... right?

Daryl pushed the door open further and aimed his crossbow to the right side of the room while Glenn covered the left side. There was nothing moving, but they had learned that there didn't always have to be something moving for a thing to be dangerous.

The kitchen had been scrubbed bare a long time ago then left to gather dust. The lights were on but many of them were blown out or flickering with that annoying buzz sound that fluorescent lights tend to give off when they get old.

The counters were mostly metal, with the odd butcher block set in. It looked to have been a really nice place in its day. They started to search the mostly bare cupboards and shelves for anything vaguely edible. They put their scroungings onto one scratched steel counter, making a pitiful pile of corroded cans and vacuüm sealed packages.

The sound of the old refrigerator kicking on with a fit of thudding protest made all three of them jump in their skin. Carl looked to the other two and then back at the fridge. Usually they left fridges alone due to the lack of things like electrical power. There was never anything nice in a fridge or freezer.

Glenn pulled out a folding nap sack and started stuffing things from the pile carefully into the light bag as Carl advanced on the growling refrigerator.

"You really wanna do that?" Daryl asked him with a half smile. "After ten years the mold has prob'ly grown mold. There might be armies of lil mold creatures in there."

"I dunno..." Carl shrugged as he put his hand on the fridge handle. "I think someone actually lives here."

"Awe, man!" Daryl always started his arguments like that, "Ain't nobody livin here! You think someone's just gonna let us waltz right inna their kitchen?"

"Dude!" Carl still had his hand on the appliance. "Nobody _let_ us walk in. It's like we were being herded."

"Right," Daryl cocked an eyebrow and scrunched his face. "An you still wanna take what's in their icebox?"

"I'm gonna take a look..."

"Hold yer nose. Ain't no tellin what's in'ere." Daryl's accent always got thicker when he thought people were ignoring his good advice. He placed his hands, palms down on the metal counter top behind him and hoisted himself up to sit with crossed his arms.

Carl held his breath and yanked the fridge open. There was nothing. Well... not exactly nothing. There was a jar of green olives that looked fresh, a half jar of jam that had something growing in it, some stiff slices of individually wrapped yellow cheese and a giant serving platter complete with smooth metal bowled top.

The thing smelled faintly of rot but not enough to put them off the contents. Carl snatched up the meager offerings and tossed them to Glenn then eyed the serving platter.

"Well," Glenn jerked his chin forward to indicate the platter. "What are you waiting for?"

"Somethin'a jump out at him..." Daryl offered with a smirk.

"Yeah..." Carl grunted and reached for the shiney lid.

He grasped the handle on the top tightly and lifted it off with a smooth motion. His mind couldn't quite take in the gruesome sight, but his body was already reacting, backing him away from the rotting severed head.

"Oh! Gross!" Carl's voice broke a bit into a squeak as the door to the fridge bumped his back. He realized what had happened and started to chuckle.

"Man!" Glenn picked up a random spoon and poked at the head. "Who would do that?" He poked it once more for good measure then tossed the spoon into the fridge and turned back to stuff the last of the goods into the bag.

"You missed somthin." Daryl helpfully pointed into the fridge.

"We are _not_ taking the head." Carl used his best 'Deputy Rick' voice.

"Naw, not the dead head..." Daryl chuckled at his own wit, "Under it. At the back."

Glenn turned back to the fridge and bent down to get a better view. "Huh..." He grunted and reached his arm in, between the shelves.

His arm was into the refrigerator up to his shoulder when the eyes on the severed head opened and the jaw started snapping at him. Glen threw himself back, knocking the fridge door out-of-the-way and landing on his ass.

"What the...?" Carl exclaimed at the racket Glenn was making.

"It moved!" Glenn pointed a shaky finger at the head.

"What?" Daryl hopped off the counter and strutted over to the fridge. "This?"

The thing rolled its eyes in his direction and opened its mouth as if it hoped to be able to get a good chomp from where it lay. Daryl picked up the spoon and jabbed the handle through the thing's eye socket.

"Ain't movin no more." Daryl said with an air of finality.

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**KK, off to read comics in bed for me!**

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	5. Hounds of Hell

**Here ya go! Actually on time this week! Hahah!**

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Daryl reached into the appliance to pull out an unopened jar of peanut butter then slammed the fridge door shut on the skewered Zombie head and turned his back on the whole thing. He muttered something about the damned icebox drying out the meat, then raised his voice so the other two could hear him.

"Now what?" He asked the other two who were still staring, wide-eyed at the refrigerator door. "Is that it for supplies in here?"

"Yeah..." Glenn cleared his throat then pulled himself off the floor, using a counter for leverage. "We got everything in the cupboards."

"Lame..." Carl muttered as he hefted the half-full sack.

"Better'n nuthin." Daryl reminded him gruffly.

"Where to next?" Glenn asked, trying to head off the argument. "There's only two doors."

They looked to where Glenn was indicating. There was the doors they came through and another, smaller one on the same wall, but in the opposite corner.

"Well... We're always goin forward, right?" Carl waved toward the smaller door. "Might as well..."

They quickly crossed to the smaller door and prepared to open it. There was no window so Glenn put himself behind the door with his hand on the knob while Daryl and Carl aimed their weapons at the side where it would open. Glenn turned the knob as quietly as he could then yanked it open quickly.

With a jarring clatter, a mop fell at their feet. It was a broom closet, with nothing but a few cleaning supplies in it.

"Shit!" Daryl turned and stalked toward the other door, Glenn following close behind.

Carl took a look in the closet to see if there was anything useful, like fuel or bleach. There was a three gallon jug of weed killer with a pump-top and a spray hose, a few brooms and mops, but nothing else. He snagged the weed killer, thinking his mom might be able to use it for something when they got back. He turned to leave, then thought of something. He grabbed a sturdy metal mop handle and propped it up in front of him. He placed one of his feet on the mop head and twisted the handle until it popped out of the head.

"Come on!" Daryl yelled at Carl from the other end of the kitchen.

"Yeah!" Carl jogged the length of the room and passed through the double swinging doors just after the others.

The garden was calm with a faint mist clinging to the dewy grass. Somewhere deeper in the building they could hear hounds baying. the eerie howling echoing through the long halls.

"Guys..." Glenn's eyes were wide. "I don't like the sounds of that..."

"Doors are locked, man." Daryl reminded the Asian man as he walked toward the other set of doors.

"Uhhh... from the outside." Glenn pointed out.

"What?" Daryl had reached the bench and turned back to glare at Glenn.

"The doors are locked from the outside." Glenn repeated. To emphasis his point he added: "The side of the doors those dogs are on."

Daryl grimaced, "Oh, Fuck..." Just then they heard the sound of chains dragging across metal and the hall entrance fell open a crack. They all paused to look at the hall doors.

The sound of barking howls from just on the other side of those doors had them breaking into a sprint for the glass doors. Daryl reached it first and started pulling at the chains just as the first of three humongous, hairy hounds broke into the room.

The beasts were fully twice the size of any man Carl had ever seen. Their shoulders were mountains of rolling muscles that would come up to Carl's ribcage if they hadn't been slinking into the room in a half-crawl. Their shaggy bellies were dragging along the floor, heads low with dark, glittering eyes glaring at the men from under their shaggy brows.

Carl reached the door and shouldered Daryl out of the way. He jammed the mop stick in a link of the aging chain and twisted it until the rusted link shattered with a loud POP.

Daryl and Glenn slammed the doors open, ready to dive in but were brought up short by a small green chick. She was dressed in over-large, tattered fatigue pants that looked to have been trimmed with a hunting knife just below her knees and a cropped black tank top with a loaded and drawn long bow pointed right at them, another two thick arrows held between her teeth.

"_Shit!_" Daryl threw himself to the side and Carl dropped to the ground, flattening himself for a second, before rolling to the side.

"_Mooshe!_" The girl growled through black painted lips, the arrows in her mouth marring her enunciation. She took a step forward to stand over Carl's prone body then let a shot fly, right into the shoulder of lead hound. She jerked an arrow from her white teeth and Carl could see that they were tipped with some sort of hypodermic device. "_GOW!_" Another arrow flew and she stepped forward again, right into the garden. She paused long enough to let the third arrow fly into the third beast then whipped around.

"What tha..." Daryl lurched out of the pile of dirt he had dropped himself into.

"Don't stop here!" The girl cried, "You're not safe, yet! Just get out, before they kill you!" She was covered in mottled green paint of several different shades, that accentuated her huge, deep, leaf-green eyes and the angular planes of her face. Her hair had been dyed a deep green-black and most of it pulled back into intricate, looping braids that mimicked the shapes of the vines growing all around, but the very back was left loose to hang down to her waist in glossy waves.

She reached in and yanked the right side door shut then reached up to flick the lock up into the door frame. She reached for the other door, but Glenn caught her muscular forearm.

"Hey!" Glenn tried to get her attention with the soothing tones of his voice but she shoved him in the middle of his chest and he stumbled backward, falling to the ground.

The lithe girl caught the other door handle, glanced down to lock her wide eyes with Carl's just before she yanked it closed, barely missing Carl's feet as he jerked them out of the way. He heard the lock _snick _into place and jumped up to yank on the handles. The door rattled but they would have to break through it if they wanted this door open again.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" Daryl demanded.

"A girl..." Carl muttered the obvious while he stroked the seam between metal frames of the glass doors. The back of his head stung, suddenly, from the palm of Daryl's hand. "_Ow!_"

"Don'cha even think about it, kid." Daryl growled at him. "She's tryin'a kill us... and yer mom certainly would kill ya!"

"What...?" Carl couldn't place where Daryl's words were supposed to be pointing. "She's not trying to kill us..."

"He's right," Glenn surveyed Carl with a look that was a cross of pity and understanding. "Let's just get outta here."

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**Ooooh! What's gonna happen now... hmmm?**

**Read & Review, please!  
**


	6. Garden of Horrors

Carl turned to survey the room they were in now. It looked like it had once been a courtyard of sorts. There were decorative grey patio bricks in the path under their feet and plants growing all around. The air was warm and humid with light streaming down from the huge skylights above. There were more pole beans clinging to a stocky tree on the left and a patch of potatoes over to the right. More of the patio bricks had been stacked in a neat little fencing around the patches of plants.

"Are these what I think they are?" Glenn had moved further into the courtyard and was standing next to a small, calf-deep koi pond that had slimy green scum growing at the top between small lily pads. The shallow layer of water was about twelve inches deep and there was something larger that looked like a couple of giant green clam shells standing tall above it all.

"I dunno..." Carl murmured as he eyed the odd plants, then he pointed out the patch of potatoes. "Those look about ready to pull."

The potatoes were in soft, black soil so he pulled one up by the lower stock. A fat, lumpy, oblong root about the size of his little sister's ten-year-old fist hung from the stem.

"Nice!" Glenn had come up behind him to check out the plant he had pulled. "I think I can do that." He assured Carl.

"OK, don't pull em all." Carl wandered over to the bright green bean vines hanging from the thick, draping branches of a tree that must have been a really small "weeping" willow. The brighter green of the bean vines complimented the tan and emerald of the willow branches and other vines nicely.

He reached out to gently pinch one of the bean pods and found it's bright green flesh just firm enough to withstand the pressure but not enough to be rough and woody yet. He plucked the bean pod and reached further back for more.

One of the dark emerald vines brushed against his arm and stuck there. He jerked his arm away from the sticky vine but it wouldn't let go. The motion disturbed more of the vines and they dropped onto his arm, further entangling it.

He pulled his arm out of the tree's draping branches and the flypaper like greenery came with it. He took his knife from his belt and shaved the vines away. His arm was beginning to redden in stinging strips from whatever sap had stuck the vines to it. He hissed and tried to wipe the sticky stuff off on his shirt but only succeeded in getting dirt and lint from the worn fabric stuck to the tacky residue. Great.

He turned to look at Glenn, giving up on the beans as a bad job, just as Glenn pulled up on another potato plant. The plant Glenn had pulled was not a fleshy potato but something crusty and woody with a shape like a doll. Within seconds of pulling the thing a shrill wailing noise cut through the air, startling them all and making Carl jump practically out of his skin.

Glenn jumped to his feet and chucked the vegetable as far from him as he could. As the thing flew across the room the shrill noise just got louder, with discordant pitches added in. The thing hit the ground and bounced once and the noise cut out, but in a scant second it blared through the room again, impossibly more loud and more discordant.

The screaming/whistling/crying seemed to be a mix of vocal and metallic noises that cut through Carl's skull and made him want to vomit. He looked at Daryl through watery eyes and saw that he was stomping on the root with no effect, then to Glenn whose nose had started to bleed and looked as if he were about to pass out.

Carl marched over to Glenn, grabbed his arm and the sack of random foods and pulled the disoriented man toward the door that could just be seen behind the water feature. They sloshed right into the water, too disoriented to look for an alternate route. The green slime rippled wildly and the huge plants bobbed in their wake as they pushed through the murky waters.

Daryl followed close behind once he realised that pulverizing the root thing wouldn't help quiet the shrieking. He stumbled once but caught himself on the fleshy lobes of one of the huge water plants. The plant snapped its lobes shut on his arm with lightning speed and Daryl couldn't get it back. He was tugging and yelling something at Glenn and Carl, but they couldn't hear him over the mind-rending noise.

Carl shoved Glenn in the direction of the door and went back for Daryl. He tried to pull on Daryl's arm, hoping that he would have better leverage but the combination of the thing's firm hold and the slime that was greasing his feet made it impossible to dislodge him. He tried stabbing at it with his knife when Daryl started cussing, red faced and the smell of burnt hair and singed flesh reached them, but the huge pod was too leathery to cut through.

Carl cast about for anything that might help and spotted the weed killer by the tree. He slogged out of the pool retrieved the jug and returned to Daryl.

Daryl had his teeth bared and was still trying to pull his arm out while his other hand was clawing at the fingered lips of the pod but it had him held fast.

Carl pulled the handle out of the top and gave it a couple firm pumps before pulling on the hose nozzle and forcing it into the pod through the gap next to Daryl's arm. He squeezed the trigger and unloaded about a cup of the liquid into the pod.

He waited for a moment, and was about to give up on the idea when the pod flung itself open and started to shrivel. Daryl pulled his arm to his stomach then thought better of it right before he touched his shirt. Instead he stooped down and swished his arm in the murky water then righted himself and trotted for the open doorway.

They both climbed through the door and Daryl slammed it behind them.

*»~:}¥{:~«*

The punch came without warning, slamming into the back of her head as she knelt by her sleeping hounds preparing to move them back to their kennels. Lights flashed behind her eyes and bile rose into her throat, choking her and making it impossible for her to breathe.

She collapsed onto the ground, gagging and coughing as she tried to regain her breath.

"Locking them up against orders wasn't enough?" Mark's voice was soft but sent chills through her shocked body. "You disobeyed again and tranked them... you know what that gets you, Kyran." He knelt by her and grabbed a hank of her hair, pulling her head up so he could look her in the face. She forced her eyes to focus on his calmly smooth features.

"You can't use them to kill people, Mark." She gasped out.

"I can." an evil glint came to his eyes, "I will." and he slammed her head down hard enough to knock her out.


	7. Taking Mummy to the Prom

**Hey guys! Thanks for all your support! I'm trying to get this done by Halloween so I can NaNoWriMo in November!**

**Warning! There's some violent stuff toward the end. Yeah, Yeah, I know. Y'all are reading a fanfic of a horror/suspense show, but still: If you are squeamish of outright murder or assault on a female, please skip the part after the pretty breaker & I'll sumerize in the post note.  
**

**And again: I do not, nor ever will own rights to any of the titles, portrayed or mentioned, in this work.  
**

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The room that they had rushed into was huge. It had been made up as if a school prom had been held here, interrupted a long time ago. There was a thick layer of dust on everything from the tables to the ribbony streamers strung along the metal scaffolding on the high ceiling.

The round tables along one wall had been laid with scotch-guarded, white linen cloths and clear plastic cups. There were random streamers and confetti strewn everywhere and a couple of mummified corpses still sitting in the chairs.

The three immediately took their standard formation to search the room and examine the corpses. Upon closer inspection every one of the bodies had been killed by the same move: A sharp, thin shank or stiletto had been shoved through the soft bottom of the jaw and into the back of the brain. The tissues were so dried out that there was not much of a hole to judge what the weapon had been. In fact, the only reason they knew where to look at all was exactly two of the mummies had gaping rends in the tissues under their jaw, as if there had been a struggle... or someone was learning.

"Looks like that one was trying to get out..." Glenn murmured, jerking his head at a mummy leaning against the huge steel double doors set into the wall across from the long, low stage platform. It had crumpled to the ground but its arm was still hooked around the pressure bar for the door latch and its forehead was pressed to the grey-painted metal.

"Walkers don't run away." Daryl growled in annoyance, his voice low.

Back with the group, Carol was careful to keep Daryl away from Glenn since the only time they got along well was when there was something else to kill. Out here in the field? They were the best foraging team. Carl though it might have had something to do with the time Maggie had caught Daryl off guard and stuck a knife to his nuts. She had made it very clear that he would _never_ be able to sleep soundly, and keep his boys, if he ever came back without Glenn. When they were foraging, though, their competition turned outward and their ability to know just how to needle each other into a silent rage turned into the ability to know the other's next move complementing it with their own.

"Yeah?" Glenn tweaked his voice into the high pitch that annoyed Daryl the most, "Then what the fuck was it doing over there?"

"Not now, guys..." Carl's harsh whisper interrupted Daryl's next insult. "That girl said someone's hunting us. Let's not let our guard down?"

Daryl's head whipped around to orient on the stage and he signed _Quiet, now!_

Carl strained his ears, but could hear nothing but a breeze stirring some of the decorations... a chill ran down his spine at that thought but he couldn't exactly pin down why. His eyes move around the room but he could see nothing out of place. Nothing had disturbed any of the dust anywhere, the corpses were all still in the same spots... Dust... Thick dust. His mind hit the brick wall of realization and he snapped his head toward the mummy at the door. The mummy was looking at them with its cold, dark, sunken orbits.

He braced himself and looked around the room again. Of the twenty or thirty some dehydrated corpses only about ten of them had been destroyed, the rest were Walkers.

Carl stepped forward one pace, knowing that Daryl and Glenn would need that space to take up their places in the formation. He mentally sectioned off his parcel of the fighting field, trusting the others to do the same and take their share.

Walkers were naturally slower than living humans, but these ancient corpses could barely move their brittle tissues. Heh... This would be easy.

He waited for them to lurch their way to him, as he had been taught a long time ago. His anxiety turned into a jittery fighting itch as he tightened the securing straps on his cross bow and quiver, checked the quick release; pulled both of his knives, checked the edges... He started to take another step forward but Daryl used one of his cross bow bolts like a riding crop to whip him in the leg.

He slowly turned his head to take count of this newest obstacle. On this side of the banquet hall there were five of the dehydrated monsters. Jeeze! They were taking so long! Even though they seemed no less relentless, what he mentally dubbed as 'the mummies' were much slower.

He bounced on the balls of his feet and that seemed to prod the Walker-husk things into moving a little faster. They pushed on their shriveled limbs and slowly shuffled across the cluttered floor.

They reminded Carl of a movie he had seen once on late night TV. Way back, a hundred years ago it seemed, he had snuck into the living room to "The Mummy". When Lori had found him, huddled on the couch peaking through the weave of her ornamental afghan, she had laughed out-right then sat on next to him to finish the 1930's black and white flick. These things reminded him of the monster in that. Kind of slow and decrepit, but no less deadly.

He shifted his stance again and Daryl clicked his tongue in rebuke. Carl didn't mean to be distracting... but, _DAMN_! This was turning out to be the longest fight _ever_!

He bounced on the balls of his feet again and the walkers closest to him became agitated by the motion, reaching their atrophied arms out toward him even though they were still several slow paces off and stumbling as they tried to quicken their stride.

He could finally take it no longer, so he pulled his cross bow off his shoulder, loaded it and fired into the nearest walker skull with practiced speed. The bolt embedded about an inch in and stopped... but the desiccated walker kept coming.

"Oh... _Shit..._" Carl growled.

"What tha hell...?" Daryl brought his bow up and fired into another emaciated walker. He got this one in the eye and it dropped, but Carl knew that there was no way he'd be able to make that kind of shot with his two remaining bolts.

He slung his bow back onto his shoulder with a smooth motion then stabbed his walker-unicorn in the eye with the bolt in his hand. He grabbed onto the first bolt and let the thing's own body weight yank it off the bolts.

He continued on like that for quite a while; the shriveled practically lining up to be put down, until his bolt caught in the eye socket of one. He switched hands and braced for more but there was none.

He glanced wildly about, ready for something to jump up and attack him, but there was nothing. Daryl was similarly braced, but Glenn was bent over, hands on knees, panting.

"You OK, China-Man?" Daryl cocked his head in mock concern.

"Yeah..." Glenn didn't even correct him, this time. "Just winded..."

He might have said more, but was interrupted by the high, thin sound of a woman's angry shriek.

*»~:}¥{:~«*

Kyran's body was sore, outside and in. She was scraped, bruised and bleeding in places that she should never have been touched and her ears were beginning to ring from Sable's shrieking. Mark's lifeless body was jerking from the repeated impacts of his wife's axe.

Kyran pulled herself out of Sable's way and tried to stand but a wash of pain blanked out her vision and she collapsed onto the floor again.

She felt small hands pull on her arms, urging her further from Sable's demented violence, helping her sit up, pressing something into her hands. She opened her eyes and saw Sable's eldest child Daryn, a dowdy girl of fourteen, trying to hand her a canteen. She snatched the jug away from the girl and took a long drink.

"Not too much..." The girl said as her mother finally quieted down. She handed Kyran a simple brown skirt to replace the pants her stepfather had shredded.

Sable had never been fully sane, but she had gotten steadily worse after she and Mark had gotten together, a year ago. Now Kyran knew why.

"_YOU!_" Sable screamed at Kyran and Daryn winced. "You stupid, fucking whore!"

"S-Sable..." Kyran began but Sable interrupted her.

"_GET OUT!_" The crazy woman screamed. "_Get out of our home, right now!_" She started to advance on Kyran but Daryn moved to intercept her mother.

"I'll escort her out, Mom." The teen said, softly. "Then I'll tell the twins to put Ma- the corpse in the incinerator."

"Fuck you." Sable spat in her daughter's face then turned around and stalked off.

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**Summary: I hate "Mark". He's an abusive jerk. His crazy wife caught him raping ****Kyran so killed him with an axe, then kicked Kyran out.  
**

**R&R! Thanks!  
**


	8. Yūrei'n a Hurry

**OMIGOD! OMIGOD! I actually updated! Heh... My NaNoWriMo did not get finished, due to unforseen events; however, I have some suspenseful goodness here for everyone! I hope you enjoy!**

** This story isn't mine, I just write it.**

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"What the fuck...?" Daryl's eyes widened a bit and he slowly turned toward the sound, scanning the room for anything moving.

"Do you think that was the girl?" Carl asked.

"I don't think nuthin." Daryl rounded on Carl, pointing his finger. "And you don't, neither."

"Whut?" Carl gave Dayl the wide-eyed and innocent look that Daryl never fell for. "But really... have we seen anyone else here?"

"Just coz we ain't seen em, don't mean they ain't here, you know that." Daryl yanked a cross-bow bolt out of a Mummy eye. "Besides, whoever that is, she sounded mighty pissed. My suggestion would be to stay the hell away from 'er. Just as soon get yer head bashed in as help 'er."

Almost as one they decided to try getting the heavy double fire doors open. When they didn't even budge when the latch bar was pushed they took a closer look at the doors, trying to decipher the cause of the uncooperative portal.

"This one seems to be welded shut." Glenn said as he examined the seam between the painted metal doors. "But it should lead to the outside..."

"Can we break the welding?" Carl asked. He had no idea how to get back to the entrance they came in at and no clue if they'd find another.

Daryl gave the exit a hard shove. "Not unless we got a blowtorch." He said after proving that the doors wouldn't budge.

The 'Look At Me' whistle sounded from behind them and they all startled & spun to look. There was no one there, but the door that they had come through was swinging open when it had been closed a few moments before. Carl took a step toward the open door but both Glenn and Daryl stopped him this time.

"What?" He yanked his body out of their grasp and gestured in wide arcs. "Do you two see any other doors around here? No? Then I guess we'd have to go through that one _anyway_!"

*»~:}¥{:~«*

Kyran could feel the warm tears slide down her face, no matter how hard she tried to keep them in. Sable had taken her in when she was still a pre-teen. She had found Kyran in the mall, living off whatever she could scrounge and hiding in the air ducts. She had shown Kyran how to dispatch the Nasties quickly and how to care for her toddler, Daryn.

"Mom may not remember about kicking you out tomorrow..." Daryn offered as consolation.

"No baby," she told the teen, "I think it's time."

"But... The twins and André..." There was a hint of hysteria in the girl's voice now. "Tom will want to know..."

Kyran turned to the slight girl in exasperation, afraid that she was going to name off all twenty residents of the mall, but when saw how very worried she was she couldn't get mad at her. She wrapped her arms around Daryn and whispered in her ear.

"Don't worry, sweety. You know what to do." She let the teen go then asked, "Now, do you know where those guys' weapons went?"

Daryn led her through the maze of hallways to a small room in the middle of the complex where the intruders' weapons had been stored.

The girl kept up a chain of soft-spoken small talk the entire way and continued chattering at Kyran while they gathered the weapons and supplies that they had filched off the men while they were distracted by the theatrics.

Kyran had been mostly ignoring the other girl's nervous babble until something Daryn said caught Kyran's ear and made her stop, cold.

"What do you mean?" Kyran's stomach was roiling, her intestines were hot with cramping pains. She grabbed the teen's thin arms as much to support her own weak knees as to get the girl's attention. Daryn didn't repeat herself, though.

"Mom said that if they survived the Mummies, they deserved to be put down." The girl's soft voice was the only noise in the hallway. Kyran realised that she had held her breath and let it out with a whoosh.

"What is this?" Kyran shook the girl once then let her go. "A fucking witch hunt? They're guilty until they die?"

"I-I don't know what you mean..." Daryn was obviously confused by Kyran's behavior.

"No, Daryn." She practically scolded the girl. "This is _not_ how we treat people."

Kyran grabbed Daryn's thin wrist and dragged her down the hall toward the Mummy room.

They marched through a thin corridor, crawled through a maintenance tunnel and sidled behind a privacy screen made of flowering vines trained to a closely woven trellis. All, in all, it took less than ten minutes to get to their destination and they were almost too late.

*»~:}¥{:~«*

The strike came from nowhere. One moment Carl was peeking around the ballroom door, the next he was swimming back to consciousness, strapped to a chair. He heard a groan from somewhere close and risked opening his eyes.

The light was dim enough that he couldn't make out any details, but he would know the forms of his companions anywhere. Glen's head was moving around as if he, too, were just waking up but Daryl's steal hard gaze was already trained silently ahead.

A thin buzzing sound started as Carl looked toward the mark that Daryl was tracking. In the gloom near what could be a wall, a large mound of shadow with a lighter colored ovoid floating in the air above it pulled away from the greater whole and stepped toward them.

The formless mass took a couple more steps, just enough so that Carl could make out a few more details in the diffuse light. The mass must have been a person, cloaked in heavy cloth and hunched so that they could tell as little as possible about the form under the cape. The lighter ovoid was a mask of bright white plaster. There were one-inch holes drilled out for the eye sockets and mouth, behind which nothing but thick, light absorbing black showed. Two blood-red lines running straight down from the thing's right socket but beside that stark color there was no other markings.

The whining buzz came louder now and the embodies shadow lifted what must have been its arm. Something metallic glinted at the end of that arm then sparked as it touched a small metal chain that had been attached to the floor and somewhere above, pulling it taut.

The buzzing turned into the screech of metal on metal that a saw or rotary tool would make and Carl was momentarily blinded by the shower of white-hot sparks that flew toward the bound men. The sparks landed on them; miniscule, searing flecks of metal to the bare skin of their faces. Carl winced away from the light of the sparks and tried his best to shield his eyes by change of position alone.

The metallic wailing stopped suddenly and Carl heard the chain clink to the floor. He looked up just in time to see the masked person turn toward him.

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**Ok, Ok! I promise to get this updated more regularly, from now until it's done, good?**

**Read & Review, please!**


	9. Shed a Little Light

**Here's a Merry Christmas chapter for NLMarch. I knew you wanted one! hehehe...**

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Kyran's heart was beating in her throat. It was clogging off her airway so that her breath was coming in ragged gasps and silent gulps. She and Daryn had been running down the last stretch of hallway for what seemed like forever. They had learned how to move through the building quickly and unseen but it had been quite a while since they had been forced to run, all out as they were.

She stopped at the darkened doorway to what used to be a Home Theater room and propped herself up against the door jamb to pull in a few ragged breaths before opening the door. With the help of the plethora of tools in the hardware section of the Sears that was attached to the mall, they had turned this small chamber into a game preparation room.

She reached down to twist the small metal knob of the closed door, then frowned when she found it locked. She rattled the knob, then knocked but the sound of her rapping was drowned out by the high-pitched screech of the hand held rotary saw cutting through a chain.

She heard the screeching stop and the chain clatter to the floor and the sounds of fighting. She backed up, holding her arms out from her sides so that Daryn wouldn't go around her, then rammed a shove kick into the door by the latch. The thin door gave way and swung open but everything was still dark inside and there were no sounds from anywhere now.

She peered inside but she couldn't see through the darkness.

"Tom?" She whispered. "Uh... Guys I don't know...?" She stepped into the darkness. "Tom? Hun, we gotta let these guys go-"

There was just a sense of motion in front of her before she found herself slammed against the wall and the breath knocked from her lungs again. She faintly heard Daryn gasp as tiny lights sparkled in the darkness in front of her eyes. The world began to swim and the small noises of the strangers taking their freedom became muffled and murky.

Too late, she realized that the asian man had his arm against her neck, holding her up on the wall and slowly choking the life out of her. With a great effort she swung her eyes around to his face and locked them on his. He was far from sane. His eyes gleamed with an odd, desparate light and his face was contorted with an odd mixture of fear and evil hatred.

She could hear a man yelling now, Daryn screaming as she fought to gasp breath. It was no use; her vision was dimming, closing in around her as convulsions of pain swept through her abdomen. She lifted one heavy, wooden arm up and raked her nails cruelly down his face, leaving thin gashes from his temple to his chin before the darkness swallowed her whole.

*»~:}¥{:~«*

Glenn came to in a state of panic. Carl could see him out of the corner of his eye as the asian man's head snapped up and he immediately started working to get out of his restraints.

The creepy mask hovered in the ill-lit room, its owner slowly waving the cutting tool in the air between them.

There was a noise at the door that distracted the man in the mask for the split second it took Glenn to use the chair to knock him over. The chair disintegrated on impact leaving Glenn tied to several pieces of wood and metal. He knocked the mask off the man's homely face then beat him unconscious with two quick smacks over the head with the broken plank that was attached to his arm.

The door burst open with a jarring bang and all three of them went dead silent. They were too used to being under attack and stealthy silence was their ingrained nature.

The person in the door called out, "Tom?" She whispered. "Uh... Guys I don't know...?" She stepped into the darkness. "Tom? Hun, we gotta let these guys go-"

Glenn bum-rushed her and started to choke her out. She fought back, dragging her nails down his face and digging into his arm in an attempt to pry his arm off her, but in the end it was no use and she passed out.

Carl managed to yank Glenn off of the green woman as she crumpled to the floor. Her teenaged companion rushed over to her and checked her pulse; she then straightened the woman out and picked up the woman's feet. The teen still had unshed tears in her eyes as she glared at Carl and his friends while hugging the woman's feet to her hip.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" The teen's voice was surprisingly firm. "We came to get you out."

"He hasn't had such good luck with being strapped down." Carl indicated Glenn who shrugged sullenly and snatched his arm away from Carl.

Daryl was frowning at the girls. "What happened to her?" He waved in the direction of the woman who was slowly showing signs of life. Carl only now noticed that the meticulous green paint had been scraped off her body in large swaths. Where the paint was gone he could see that her skin was abraded and bruised. Her face was smeared with a mixture of paint and blood with tear tracks streaking her cheeks.

"My stepfather p-punished her." The woman was regaining consciousness now. Carl's blood ran cold when he got a good look at the green woman's face. Both of her lips were split on the right side, as if someone with a massive hand had slapped her down. There was a dark bruise over her left temple and her left eye was black and swollen.

The woman groaned as she came to, then rolled onto her side and curled in on herself as if she was hurting inside as well.

"Punished her?" Carl was shocked. His dad was a dick, but he'd never attack someone like that! Shoot em? Maybe... but this looked like someone tried to beat her to death.

"Yeah." The teen's voice was ice cold. "For helping you. But she knew it would happen."

Daryl walked over to the girls and pulled the green woman to her feet. She gasped and started to retch as her knees buckled. Carl stepped over to help him prop her up.

"What are we going to do with her?" Carl asked Daryl, "We can't just leave her here. That guy will kill her this time."

Daryl looked at the girls and heaved a sigh. "This is gonna hurt." He told them then lifted the injured woman's light body and dashed through the broken door.

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	10. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Sorry that this has been so long in coming, guys! I've been pretty sick. I started writing this before New Year, but just got the "umph" to get it finished.**

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Carl followed followed Daryl out of the darkened room and was surprised to see most of their gear was stashed in the hall just over the threshold.

"This all of it?" Daryl croaked at the girl who shied away from him a little bit before she spoke.

"Everything that we could find." She replied in a small voice, frowning at the gear.

Carl and Glenn picked up the heap of gear, strapping on the pieces of their own and stashing Daryl's weapons in out-of-the-way nooks so they could have their hands free. Daryl made no move to reclaim his weapons or to put the injured woman down.

The thin girl then lead them through a maze of walkways and tunnels that wound around, but never through, the rooms that Daryl, Glenn and Carl had been trapped in.

After a few minutes the Green Woman, Kyran they were told she was called, motioned to be put down and Daryl gladly complied.

"Not like you weigh much;" He told her, "but even a feather-weight, like you, gets to wearin' a person down after a while."

She gave him a faint smile then leaned on the Thin Girl, Daryn's arm.

"Wait right here," Kyran told the men then limped into a janitor's closet, supported by the younger girl. A couple minutes passed and the men started to get nervous. Carl thought he could hear whispers coming from the well trimmed and trained vines growing up the walls. He stepped closer to the plants next to him and listened.

He thought he could hear several tiny voices engaged in a heated debate.

_Nach bhfuil sí coinnithe go maith. Beidh sí a fhágáil linn._

_Ní mór dúinn leanúint a chosaint di níos fearr!_

_An marbh siúil, geallta ag Arimid, siad teacht. Lasmuigh ní na ballaí dúinn-_

_SHHHH!_

The high pitched hiss made Carl wince and he stuck a finger in his ear, twisting it to rub out the slight ache.

"CARL!" Daryl pushed at his arm. "Whatcha got there?" Daryl asked him, frowning.

"Uh, nothing." Carl replied with a shrug, "Just thought I heard someone talking..." He looked back at the trained foliage. He noticed that the girls were standing there, waiting with Daryl and Glenn for him to come to his senses.

"Yeah?" Glenn looked at the foliage too.

"You been spacin out for, like, five fucking minutes." Daryl scolded him. "And what tha hell is that?"

Carl looked down to where Daryl was pointing and saw a thin, intricately woven cord was hanging from his hand. He rotated his hand and opened his fist to find a rough-cut crystal, intricately wrapped in fine copper filament swirls, had been placed in his palm.

He held the crystal up to the thin light in the hall. "I have no idea..." The milky hue of the crystal sparkled weakly with tiny refracted rainbows. Carl just happened to catch the faint surprise on Kyran's green painted face before she controlled her expression.

Carl tucked the stone into the breast pocket of his vest. "Let's get outta here." He suggested to the others.

Daryl made a face and Glenn rolled his eyes, but everyone seemed to silently agree that they should move on.

The girls led the group through a few more hallways before Daryn stooped to open a hidden hatch. She climbed in then turned around to help Kyran into the four foot by four foot crawl-way.

Carl followed the girls, crawled about eight feet in then waited for Daryl and Glenn to bring up the rear and reseal the hatch.

"We're almost out..." Kyran informed them in a voice that was just barely loud enough for them all to hear before nudging Daryn further down the tunnel.

"Good." he heard Daryl murmur. "Just about done with this warren of creepy."

Kyran chuckled. "I heard that."

"Fuck you." Daryl's mood was rapidly deteriorating.

"No thanks!" She said in a sickly sweet voice as she turned to Carl. She held his gaze and winked. "I like my meat juicy, not jerky."

Carl felt his jaw drop in surprise when he recognized the double, (triple?) entendre. He was still close enough to catch the smirk she gave him before she turned around to continue her ungainly impetus.

As they slowly progressed the air in the tunnel became cooler as it mixed with the fresher air from outside. Eventually they came to the end of the crawl way. A thin wire grate, hinged on one side and latched with a padlock on the other side barred them from exiting.

"Outside this is a courtyard." Daryn explained. "You can get to the outside through the gate on the other side. Kyran, you got your key, right?"

Kyran nodded and Daryn unlocked the gate. It swung out into the courtyard and Daryn helped Kyran to the ground, a few feet below. Carl climbed out next, followed by Daryl & Glenn.

"You're not coming?" Glenn asked the teen who shook her head once.

"My place is here." She shrugged and there was a look in her eyes that made her seem a lot older than her years. "Someone's gotta clean up this mess." With that she swung the grate closed again and clicked the padlock into place.

*»~:}¥{:~«*

Kyran stood at the edge of the courtyard for a moment to catch her breath. Just off this yard was the exit, but she could also access the kennels. In fact, this was the yard she used to exercise her puppies.

"Can you guys wait a moment?" She asked turning toward the kennels. "I gotta get my puppies."

"The world outside ain't no place to have baby animals." She heard one of them protest, but she was already at the small gate the dogs used to enter the yard. The gate squeaked a little as she opened it and a huge black nose poked cautiously out to snuffle her hand.

The dogs were monstrously sized Irish Wolf Hounds, trained to be silent unless given a signal. The little yips of pleasure each of them greeted her with were the only noise they made as she harnessed them with their pulling tack then walked back out into the yard motioning the dogs to follow her.

* * *

**Tell me what you think! Should Kyran go out on her own, or stick with the clan?**

**Reviews, Please!  
**


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